Sweet Sorrow
by Shobogan
Summary: Peri stumbles across a box of memories.


Peri wasn't _snooping_ per se. She hadn't meant to find the Doctor's room; she'd just sort of stumbled across it and, well, there was no harm in taking a peek, right?

"And if you're going to leave a box just lying open on the bed…" she muttered, eyes glinting. There was paper beside it — or it looked enough like paper — and envelopes. This was promising.

She perched on the edge of the bed, pulling the box close and gingerly removed a letter.

Okay, so she felt a bit guilty, but he was the one who never talked about himself so other means were necessary.

A name was scrawled, neatly and carefully, on the envelope, and her eyes widened as she recognised it — _Turlough_. Carefully, she slipped out the letter.

_You are a far better man than you ever realised. You are capable of such courage and compassion behind that smug, apathetic veneer of yours. Granted I've grown rather fond of that, too. I even miss your sarcasm on occasion._

The next bit was scratched out. Peri shook her head; apparently he couldn't even open up to a piece of paper.

_I enjoyed travelling with you. I miss your wit, your cunning, your experience. There were things we shared that we never spoke of but the connection was there and sometimes I wish we had._

There is a great deal I will never learn of your past, Turlough, but what matters is the man you are now, and he is magnificent. I am glad to have known him.

I hope your are well, and safe, and content. Or, at the very least, still fighting.

Peri swallowed, the guilt rising several levels as she placed the letter back into its proper place. She took the next, though, because now that she'd started she couldn't just stop.

Tegan. A name she didn't know.

_You are one the most stubborn, hot-headed, infuriating women I have ever known in my lives and I wouldn't have had you any other way._

You challenged me. Sometimes it was unwarranted, mind, but I could always count on you to keep me on my toes, so to speak, even if you were loud about it.

We didn't always get on. You frustrated me severely at times, and I you I'm sure. Yet we were friends, or became so. You were there when I was born, in a sense, and I…would not have had it any other way. I only wish we could have parted on better terms.

Please have found a life for yourself on Earth once more. Please be happy, and remember our times together with some fondness despite…despite everything else.

I will miss you, my friend.

She stared at the letter in her heads, head buzzing with speculation. What was this woman like? What was their relationship like? Does he still miss her?

"Well, not like I can ask," she muttered, sliding the letter back in and gently setting it atop Turlough's.

Nyssa.

_I miss you dreadfully. I know why you left, and I'm so very proud of you, but that doesn't mean I don't still wish for your company. You always…understood. Listened, not only to my instructions — which I very much appreciated — but to me. You were my confidante as much as my companion, and for that I will always be grateful._

You were the centre of our odd little family, the eye of the storm so to speak. The TARDIS shall never be the same without you. I think she misses you as well. Tegan certainly does.

I wish

"Oh, for heaven's sake, not again."

_I will never forget you._

That was sweet. She didn't know he could be that sweet, really. _Does he only do it when we're not there?_

She should have stopped then, put the three back and left, but there were so many left unopened. Someone else should carry the memories of these people, someone should share them with him at least a little.

Adric.

_You were brilliant, but you knew that quite well. Flaunted it, I would say, though I suppose I can't throw stones._

I remember spending hours in the library with you as you tried to broaden your horizons. Sometimes I grew frustrated and I apologise; I was often hard on you, but it was only because I wanted to push you. So much potential.

You were so brave, yes, but also naïve and arrogant like many other children — and don't pout, Adric, you were. So young.

I'm so sorry.

She closed her eyes tightly for a moment. She never should have come in here, never should have done this.

It was an invasion of privacy, of emotions he'd never wanted her to glimpse, history he'd never wanted her to know — and now she knew that, someday, all she'd be to him was a piece of paper in a box, one among dozens. 

"I'm sorry," she whispered, and her voice trembled with her hands.

"You're forgiven," said a soft voice from the corridor, and she looked up to meet the Doctor's eyes. Initial fury had faded into quiet sympathy, so quickly she could still see the embers.

She set Adric's letter on the mattress, eyes downcast as she rose and approached him. With hardly a look up, she wrapped her arms around her best friend.

Slowly, hesitantly, he returned the embrace, and they stayed that way for a while.

Then, as always, life moved on.


End file.
